Just Below the Surface
by Moonraker One
Summary: ChiChi's modelling career flatlined, her fortyyear old looks just weren't selling anymore. But it's amazing what you can get in exchange for one soul...


Just Below the Surface  
By Moonraker One

Just after the stroke of noon tides erupted and large waves struck the sides. Large objects bobbing up and down struck by a large sheet and then shifted into a different area. This was the sink of one Chi-Chi, who stood in front washing dish after dish. Twenty separate plates had been dirtied by her husband and two children, who were known for their appetites almost as much as their fighting ability. The rag stripping away caked on food and grime, she rinsed and placed the dishes into the drying rack. For thirty minutes she engaged herself in this tiresome chore, staring out the window in between plates and bowls. She stared at the midday sun illuminating the rich countryside for miles around and it gave her some comfort in the drudgery that was cleaning up after three rather uncivilized Saiyan warriors. _They beat the hell out of each other all day and then come home and devour my food like ravenous beasts,_ she thought to herself, _then leave me behind to clean up the mess. Isn't that the way it always has to be. Hmph._

She finished her useless chore and sat on the couch staring at the television. Looking at the ladies strut their chemically and surgically enhanced figures on the emotionless catwalk wearing clothes any sane person wouldn't be caught dead in struck her as comical, even given her occupation of choice. _Damn, I wish I could make it big like they do._ She smirked and rolled her eyes. _But then again, there isn't much modeling work for a forty year old housewife with cellulite here and sagging tits there._ She had been a small-part model since she was in her twenties, and each year saw her job opportunities grow less and less. It had been the enabling factor for her husband Goku to never need a job, but as the years dragged on she predicted that something drastic would have to happen soon.

Almost as a shout-out to her needs, the phone rang. She lifted the receiver to her ear. "Hello, Son residence," she announced.

"Chi-Chi? Good," he said. "This is Kojima Takaharo from the local magazine. I got your number from the agency. Can you come in for a photo shoot?"

Without much expectation she asked the first obvious question. "How much?"

"Six hundred for twelve pictures is the price to you."

Chi-Chi almost laughed. "Fifty zenie a picture? Sorry, try again."

The man groaned. "You're a tough one to bargain with, but you're the most experienced the agency's got. Alright, twelve hundred."

"Twelve hundred," Chi-Chi repeated. _Good, that'll cover today's meals and the rest of this month's land taxes._ "I accept. What kinda photos you going to be taking?"

"We, uh, need you to pose for a computer ad."

She lifted an eyebrow. "_Twelve_ photos for a computer ad?"

"For _several_ ads, actually," he corrected. "And a few bath towel ads."

"See you in a few hours. Bye." Hanging up the phone, she gathered her purse and the car keys, and headed for the door. She contemplated leaving a note for her family, but shrugged it off. _If those beasts come in before eleven o'clock, I'll be amazed,_ she knew. She started the car and headed off to West City for the magazine shoot.

On the other side of the planet, in an abandoned trash dump, the cold night wind roared. An otherwise uneventful landscape found itself rapidly interrupted by a series of lightning bursts that caught several of the non-moistened items of garbage on fire. The electrical storm gathered around a central circle that grew from a pea-size to a large opening. A figure garbed in black emerged. Staring at the surroundings he smiled wickedly. _Just like I thought,_ he thought to himself, looking around. _Earth. A planet full of people who cannot ever be satisfied with themselves. I love it here._

He had his mission. He had lives to ruin. He flew off towards the biggest gathering of people he could sense.

Chi-Chi sat, surrounded by makeup artists of many different kinds. "Your hair is impossible to work with," the stylist joked as he washed and combed out the dark hair of the aging housewife. A separate person worked on her face makeup. A good hour went by before she had been worked up from housewife to the model she'd been for fourteen years. She then stepped out of the chair and into the area where she stripped naked and six different people worked her into the dress she was to have six pictures taken in. When she'd first started, the prospect of several adult males watching her strip and then helping her _into_ an outfit made her severely uncomfortable; now, she could take all her clothes off and whether or not the men got a cheap thrill didn't even occur to her. Everything changed with experience, she believed.

"Chi-Chi!" Kojima beckoned. He looked her up and down. "The dress should work, although I'm not quite satisfied with the makeup."

"I wanted to go with just a few layers," she rebutted, "but your stylists told me that the extra makeup would be best."

He rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I just wanna fire those guys. The tower is over there on the podium, go and get into the pose and I'll have the photographer prep."

She stood by the PC, a completely lifeless looking piece of equipment. The photographer got the camera ready, a process which took the better part of thirty minutes. "Tilt your hips like this and push your hair back. Look like your trying to get a sense of what that thing is," he instructed. Gesturing with his hands, he guided her into a pose he thought would work. "Excellent. You're much easier to work with than some of the younger girls."

"If I could magically go back in time and give my forty year old brain to my twenty six year old self I'd be rich," she joked.

He snapped the picture. "You know all the poses down pat. Let me take a few with you in this position," he guided her again, speaking instructions. He snapped a few more. "Okay, last picture. Bring your finger in front like you're pushing the on button, and let me see some ass. Sex sells, you know."

"I don't think they'll buy your computers if they see this big thing." She posed, a position she knew from her numerous years in the business. She knew her weakness. She had more experience than any of the popular models, she could walk in and instantly know everything that had to be done and how to do it, where these young kids might have to cause the project leader hours of grief. The only thing she lacked was her mid-twenties sexiness.

"Alright," Kojima directed, moving her back to the back area. "Wash off the makeup and wet your hair. You need to be wearing only this bathtowel for the next ad." With two bottles of water she undid an hour's worth of work with several quick splashes. Pouring water down her torso and back, she wrapped her nude figure in the towel and posed in front of the background.

"Smile and motion like you're offended by someone walking in on you," the photographer guided. "You know, Chi-Chi?" He took the picture. "I love working with you 'cuz all I have to do is tell you what to do and you know the pose. These young girls may be sexpots but they're a bitch to get into the right pose." He took several more.

When the shoot was over, she was paid—in cash—and got into her normal outfit. "Hey, Mr. Takaharo? Can I use your cell phone?" He nodded and handed her the phone. _Twelve hundred is enough for this month's taxes but I'm gonna need a few more jobs if I'm gonna pay the utilities and food._ "Hello, Kohaku? Put Mrs. Umino on the phone." She waited a few moments. "Mrs. Umino? Hi! Chi-Chi Son here. I need a few more shoots today if I'm gonna pay all my bills."

"Let me check my reserve list," Chi-Chi's boss said. "Sorry. We're booked up for this month. Maybe a cancellation could happen or one of my girls gets sick but right now, no."

"Mrs. Umino, you don't understand. I'm better than these girls and I've been working for you since I was twenty-six! I have to pay bills! Give me a photo shoot!"

"Chi-Chi, I don't know what to tell you. Not many people want a middle aged housewife! You just have to wait!"

"Tell that to my bill collectors," she said, hanging up.

She handed the phone back to Kojima. On the drive home, she thought of her options. _Goku'll have to provide the food. This money is going to pay all the taxes and the electricity, and there should be enough for the water and part of the television._ She shook her head. _Dammit, why did this have to happen? When I was young, everyone wanted to take a photo shoot with Chi-Chi, and I had to turn several of them down because I didn't have the time. Now I have the time, and no one wants the old housewife. Man, I'd sell my soul for some of the stardom these supermodels have._ Driving home she turned on the radio and cried to an old rock song.

Back home, she went straight to the bed room, plopped down on the bed and wiped away the tears she'd been crying. Her money she filed into her locking money chest. It had been empty since the beginning of the month. The photo shoot she'd had this day had been the first in weeks. She thanked God for it, since they'd otherwise lose the house.

The phone rang, and with exasperation she answered. "Hello?"

A voice she did not recognize answered, "Chi-Chi, right?"

Her hopes rose; a photo shoot meant enough money! "Yes, this is she."

"I have a wonderful opportunity for you," he said. "Come down to the Ritz Hotel in West City, I'm in the business room."

"Is this a photo shoot? If not, I can't come because I can't waste the gas…"

He cut her off. "I'll pay for gas. Just come down." He hung up.

The hotel lobby bustled with people heading to various locations. Some were on business trips, some staying the night from traveling, some were couples planning on an eventful night. She happened to glance at the television mounted directly above the registration desk. More news about the latest break-up of international supermodel celebrity Maron J. Chordall being shot around like a volleyball in summertime. She rolled her eyes. _This chick probably has one year or two of experience in the business. She maybe knows enough to be a pain in the ass and nothing more, and still gets paid millions for what she does. Life isn't fair._ She watched as the cameras followed the blue-haired girl to her expensive Italian car. _I don't know what Krillin saw in that girl._ She checked her ID at the desk and a finger pointed her in the right direction.

Inside the room, she saw a man seated behind a laptop computer with a briefcase at its side. "Ah, Chi-Chi!" he nodded, motioning for a chair next to him. "Sit down."

She looked at him. "What's this about? You spoke of an opportunity."

"If I recall correctly, your career has somewhat flatlined. Let me give you a helping hand." He handed her a sheet of paper. "Some of the most well-paying jobs in the world. Internationally-renouned magazines and other jobs you've never been assigned, can all be yours."

She laughed. "Oh, really? What's the catch." _I KNOW I'm gonna find this funny._

He shook his head. "No catch. Just sign the contract."

_Contract? I don't do contracts. They don't pay enough._ "What contract?" She read it over. More specifically, she read the cost requirements section. Every contract she ever read—and turned down—always had a cost requirement. She practically burst out laughing when she read the section.

"Thank you, but this was a severe waste of my time," she said, heading for the door.

"It isn't a joke."

She turned. "It isn't?" she snapped. "Here I am, thinking you truly cared about my career, and you're playing mind games with me! Cost requirements: my soul? Please. You expect me to believe you're some demonic force. I'm insulted."

He cleared his throat. "Man, I'd sell my soul for some of the stardom these supermodels have."

She froze where she stood. He grinned.

"I thought that'd get your attention."

She approached him, but did not sit down. "Why would I sign my soul over to you, if you _are_ a demon, when I can just gather the dragonballs and wish my youth back?"

"They can't guarantee opportunity the way I can," he offered.

"No."

"Okay, then. Try and find some work before next month. If you can't, you lose everything."

"It just doesn't seem worth it. Is an eternity of hell worth one month of being saved from debt?"

"You're making a mistake. You think I'm the devil. There is no such thing. I'm of the order of Kais, just like the supreme kai himself. I just…work differently. You won't be condemned to hell, you'll just be…helping me."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, this was a waste of my time."

"Your husband doesn't care. Otherwise he'd have gotten a job."

"You're not going to convince me."

"How long can you keep this up?"

"Did you not hear me?"

"They come and go and you are left holding the bag. It's empty, of course, because they eat up all your income!"

"You know what? Fine. If it'll shut you up." She signed on the X line. _What a joke. It'll never work. I'm playing the fool again,_ she thought. "Okay. Nothing's happening."

"Just wait until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Ha. Now there's a time restriction. I love it. Thank you, mister, but I've just been made a fool of, and I'd like to get home."

At a sprawling mansion in the mountains of Italy, a exhausted Maron plopped onto her bed. _Those damn paparazzi's never leave me alone. I dumped the guy and they have to make it sound like he dumped me! The only time a guy dumped _me_ was Krillin._ She closed her eyes, falling fast asleep quickly. She hadn't even taken off her low-cut red dress.

Chi-Chi changed into her nightgown and slid into bed next to Goku. "Where'd you go today, Chi-Chi?"

She just glanced at him. "You have NO idea how dumb I feel right now. So please just shut up and go to sleep." She closed her eyes and slipped into dream land. The hours faded like an old painting.

When she awoke, she opened her sleepy eyes and pushed herself up. _Wait a minute,_ she thought, _I don't remember falling asleep on my stomach._ She shook her head. _Weird. And where's Goku?_ She laughed, scratching her itchy hair. _He probably went off with Gohan and them to fight some more._ Stumbling across the floor while she tried to push aside the grogginess, she came to a large mirror. Several things she noticed at once. _Wait, my face isn't supposed to be this smooth._ That came second to a superior concern. _Why is this room so different? Why am I wearing this red dress?_ But one concern came above all the others. It occurred to her when she looked down at her chest.

"HOLY SHIT!"

"Ms. Chordall? Are you okay?"

"Who the fuck are you?"

The man coming in from the kitchen scratched his head. "Are you on cocaine again? I'm your agent, John. I came in this morning like you asked me last night."

"The fuck is going on?"

"Dammit, you must be on drugs again. Okay, no problem, I'll just call the agency and lie to them again."

"Drugs, what? No! I just wanna know what the fuck's going on!"

He examined her like a vet to a diseased animal. "Maron, you know that today is the photo shoot and then you've got a catwalk appearance."

"M…Maron?"

"Are you positive you're not on drugs?" he looked at her suspiciously.

"No! No drugs!"

"Why'm I NOT convinced? Last time you relapsed you almost ruined a good shoot."

She looked at herself in the mirror. _My face is still mine, why does he think I'm Maron?_ Examining everything below the neck gave the answer. _Oh shit! That's it!_ The contract came back to her.

He put his hands on her shoulders to comfort her. "Are you absolutely positive you're NOT on drugs? You blew almost half your fortune on your cocaine habit last time."

"I'm…Maron…" she whispered.

"Maron!"

"No! No cocaine!"

"Okay," he grudgingly uttered, not believing her. "Now let's go." His phone rang and he answered it. "John McFarlane Management Services, John McFarlane speaking. What? Fuck you! Call me back when you've got a better number."

"Who was that?"

"Oh, that was the magazine. They offered you three million."

Chi-Chi practically choked. "_Three million?_...!"

He shook his head. "Yeah, ridiculous, isn't it? You're worth six at least."

_What the fuck am I getting myself into?_


End file.
